Full Metal Slug
by Dr Death DST
Summary: The Attican Traverse has been described as the Alliance's Vietnam. A conflict strung together over a decade of endless skirmishes and major battles. Follow the lives of several marines as they fight from Mindoir to Torfan and everything in between. See how war shapes them and challenges their ideals and beliefs about what it is to be human. OC oriented, MC's will make cameos.


The carrier SSV Einstein guarded one of dozens of relays in the Attican Traverse. Helmsman Andrews kept the large vessel in orbit around the relay while monitering the traffic of civilian ships. Nearing ten years of active duty, he was growing tired of the endless do-nothing missions. Resting his chin in one hand he nearly fell asleep when a red light flashed on his screen.

"Emergency transmission from one of the colonies," called out a tech specialist from a station behind him.

"Is it legit?" Andrews asked. Enemies were known to fake signals to draw Alliance ships away from relays.

"Tracing it now... looks like it came from Mindoir. Codes are up to date and match ours. It's the real deal," said the specialist.

Andrews brought up the message. It was short and to the point. He read it aloud, "Mindoir is under attack by a large force of batarian slavers. Send help."

Captain Hannah Shepard appeared behind Andrews with arms crossed. A vid screen in front of them displayed the planet's profile. "How soon can we get there?"

"Four hours at FTL speed," he said.

"A lot can happen in four hours. Wake the troops, we're going in," she said.

Andrews rubbed the back of his neck with discomfort. An experienced pilot, he knew better than to rush into a fight. "You know, we are just one carrier. What if they have frigates? We don't have the manueverability for a ship to ship battle."

"The next Alliance patrol is a day away. We can't wait that long. _The colonists_ can't wait that long," said Shepard. "Our fighters will keep us safe. Right now we need boots on the ground."

"Aye-aye ma'am."

_ He who defends everything defends nothing._ The Alliance didn't have enough strength to keep a garrison at every colony. Instead, it stationed ships around mass relays guaranteeing an overwhelming response within a few hours or days. Sometimes it was too little too late. Thousands of colonists over the past decade had been lost to slavers and mercs. Tensions were begining to grow between the colonies and the Alliance. Earth even feared a rebellion equal to the turians' Unification War.

/

The alarm calling for battle stations went off in every section of the carrier. Bunks came to life as marines sprung from them. Trained to be battle ready, they shit, showered, and shaved in under five minutes. In the next five they were dressed in full armor and reported to the hangar in formation. There were always a few stragglers; people who barely made the cut in bootcamp.

The carrier held a whole battalion of marines. With incredible leaps in military tech, the size of armies were cut in half since the twenty-second century. The battalion was divided into three companies. Each company divided further into three platoons of twelve soldiers. In total, one hundred eight soldiers occupied the hangar.

Lieutenant Ernesto Zabaleta walked along the ranks of his platoon as did the other lieutenants. The majority of his troop had young faces with the occasional veteran. Zabaleta was a veteran of the First Contact War. Most of the fighting was done by the time he got to the front. That had been seventeen years ago when he was eighteen. Ever since then, he chased pirates and slavers across Alliance space. Now at thrity-five, he should have been commander. People considered Zabaleta edgy and his soft views on aliens made his promotions few and far between.

"You look sharp," said Zabaleta. The man was clean cut with short brown hair. He was a thin man lacking a commanding presence. "One of our colonies, Mindior, has been hit by slavers."

Murmurs spread through the platoon. Everyone had heard horror stories about what slavers did to humans. Most of the time it was batarians. Outside Council space, turians, asari, salarians, and even humans were guilty of slaving but the batarians were the most renown.

"We don't know exactly how much opposition we face," Zabaleta went on. "Honestly I don't think we'll have any. You know as well as I do that slavers always hit and run. It'll be a few hours before we get there. Until then I want you to eat, check your weapons, and report back here for a further debriefing. Dismissed."

"I don't like the smell of this one," said Angela Davis, a squad leader for Zabaleta's platoon.

"I don't smell anything," said Mark Wilks picking at his teeth.

"I smell bullshit," said Beth Garret. "Those slavers will be long gone by the time we get there."

Angela frowned at the two marines under her command. "It doesn't matter if they're there or not. We have an obligation to go."

"Any survivors will be blaming us for not getting there fast enough," said Mark putting his hands in his pockets. "We should be like the turians and keep a platoon on every world."

"Be careful who you say that around or you'll be a private for the rest of your career," said Angela. "Anyway, Mindoir isn't a small colony. This can't be an ordinary attack."

"I have no love for turians, believe me. The question is, what band of mercs could possibly stand up to the Alliance?" asked Mark. No one had an answer.

The chow hall was packed. Pilots outnumbered the marines five to one on the carrier. An excited hum of chatter filled the air as everyone discussed the coming mission. The smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee overpowered the ever present oily scent from the hangar. Mark breathed deeply welcoming the new smell. After retrieving a tray he sat down with his squad at a crowded table. There was a scoop of canned mixed vegetables on his tray but they had no smell or taste.

"Looks like we'll get to test out those new kodiaks," said Angela. She was a tall woman, over six foot and lean. Every morning she exercised and went to the virtual range for some target practice. She kept her black hair cut short like a man's so her helmet would fit better. It made her look butch but she wasn't here to date. Going on twenty-four, she knew there was time for that later.

"Psssh, I heard Schmidt say they're giant coffins," said Mark playing with his vegetables. "One hit to the field generator and..." He made a trailing whistling noise. "Adios."

"Thanks for that tidbit Mark," said Beth, her stomach churning. Heights scared her and she held her breath during every practice combat drop.

"I seriously doubt these slavers have anything that can knock us down. I'm more worried about what we find on the ground," said Angela.

"Unless there's an engine problem..." added Mark.

"Shut up already," said Beth. She forced the thought from her mind. In many ways she was Angela's opposite. Thin and mousy in appearance; she stood just above five foot. She kept her blond hair tied back in a pony-tail which added a level of discomfort when suited up. Fresh out of boot at eighteen, she never fully adjusted to military life. "I just want some solid ground beneath my feet."

"The flight will only last a few minutes," said Angela touching Beth's shoulder. "Remember your training and stay focused."

"These eggs taste like shit," said Mark with his mouth full. Bits of egg fell from his lips causing Beth to make a face.

"You're disgusting."

"Thanks babe, you don't look half bad either," said Mark smiling at her.

"That's enough," said Angela. "I swear you two are worse than my kids."

"Sorry mom," said Mark stabbing at his eggs with a fork. He had thick brown hair cut short and a goatee that looked more red than brown. His arms and chest were muscular but not bulging. Standing up from the table he said, "I've got weapons to clean."

"You barely ate," called out Angela but he didn't respond.

After Mark left, Beth said, "I didn't know you had kids."

"Yeah, April and Suzy." Angela pulled out a crinkled picture of two dark haired girls. "They're four and six. Hate leaving them behind on these long deployments."

"Your husband stays at home then?"

"No. He's... he's gone. They stay with my mother," said Angela taken off guard. "We were never married. He flew cargo frigates out to the colonies. His ship was attacked by pirates and, well, he didn't make it."

"I'm so sorry," said Beth taking the picture and studying it. The girls had the same dark eyes and pointed nose as their mother. "They're really cute. I don't have any kids but someday I'd like to. Probably after my two years are up."

"You didn't sign on for the full four?"

"This isn't for me," said Beth fighting back an embarassed grin. "The recruiters suckered me in with the whole saving the galaxy while getting a free education spiel. Honestly I wish I could drop out."

"That's too bad," said Angela taking the picture back. "Stick with it and it'll go by fast."

"I hope so."

/

The armory was packed as well. The room's small size compounded the problem. The master-at-arms doled out various weapons according to a soldier's rank and training. Marked had to wait in line to recieve his standard weapon, the lancer assault rifle. Half an hour passed before he could sign out his rifle.

He went to the hangar for more space. Nine kodiak shuttles were lined up in position by the hangar door. Mechanics ran tests on the engines as pilots checked the computer systems. Every so often a loud roar would fill the room as an engine fired on full. On the opposite side of the hangar sat a dozen mantis gunships, the first of their kind. It was unclear if they would be used in the fight.

Mark picked a cluster of ammo crates to sit on. A small cleaning kit hung on his belt. He laid out the small tools, cloths, and lube he would need. The lancer came apart easily as he began to strip the weapon's shaving mechanism. The metal block looked barely used.

As the mission drew closer it became harder to keep his hand steady. The Alliance suited Mark just fine but he was untested in battle. He did well enough in boot scoring above average on several tests. Growing up on Earth, he watched all of the action vids glorifying war and Alliance patriotism. All he knew of aliens were their stereotypes, asari are whores, batarians were evil, and turians just needed a good ass kicking.

"Hey buddy."

Mark looked up to see his friend Schmidt holding a revenant light machine gun. He was short and had thick hairy forearms, perfect for holding such a heavy weapon. Schmidt also had a distinctly crooked nose, bald head, and scuffy beard.

"Hey yourself, I'm surprised no one's made you shave that thing off," said Mark giving Schmidt a fist bump.

"What, this?" Schmidt pulled at his beard. "No chance in hell. How will the batarians distinguish me from the rest?"

"By the shine coming off your head no doubt."

"It blinds them, that's why I've never been shot." Schmidt was twenty-eight and a squad leader in the same platoon as Mark. The man had several battles under his belt with seventeen confirmed kills. "I'm eager for some action today."

"You think we'll get some?" asked Mark sounding more nervous than he wanted.

"Probably not," said Schmidt twisting his mouth in thought. "Last few fights I was in we only caught the slavers as they were leaving. Had a shoot-out with a group that got left behind but it was pretty uneventful."

"I want to get my first kill," said Mark scrubbing his rifle with more intensity.

"You will, just don't get killed yourself," said Schmidt sitting down on a crate. He bumped Mark's arm with his elbow saying, "Hey, did you hear Roxy's platoon has a squad of N7s?"

"No."

"Roxy was pissed, it's her platoon but she has to take orders from them," said Schmidt laughing.

"Sucks to be her then."

"Serves the bitch right." Schmidt spit on the ground. "Never met a woman so cold as her. Thinks she's the goddamn battalion commander. Saw her trying to order ol'Zabaleta around once."

"I don't trust the LT," said Mark while adjusting the screws on the weapon's heat sink. "He seems... soft to me."

Schmidt chewed his lip staring off across the hangar. "The last time we got into some hot shit, Zabaleta got a little... rattled. He kept freezing up and couldn't make quick decisions." He leaned close to Mark whispering, "Some are saying Zabaleta isn't fit for duty."

"Maybe we'd be better off with Roxy then," said Mark.

"Fuck that, if Zaby chickens out, I'll take over," said Schmidt opening up his own weapon.

"That all we need, some bloodthirsty bastard like you running the show," said Mark putting the lancer back together.

"You say that now but you'll see there's none better than me."

/

Capt Shepard invited a couple friends up to her quarters for a drink. The room was modest containing a conventional bed, desk, locker, and a table. The floor and walls were made of the same cold metal paneling as the rest of the ship. She burned sweet smelling insense and played light techno music to make the room more inviting.

Lt Zabaleta and Warrant Officer Gully attended taking seats around the small table. Shepard brought over three glasses of brandy from her locker handing them out to her guests. She removed her captain's hat tossing it on the bed.

"Let's toast to a successful mission," said Shepard sitting down at the table. They clinked their glasses together and took a sip. Shepard removed a hair pin letting her reddish brown hair fall around her shoulders. "How are the marines Ernesto?"

"Eager as ever," he said taking another sip. "I'm sure they can handle whatever we find."

"That's good because I think we have a hard fight ahead of us," said Shepard staring into her glass.

"Whoever's behind this, we'll crush them," said Gully. The forty-three year old veteran of the First Contact war had experience flying all sorts of spacecraft. The stress of combat made him look much older than he was. Sunken green eyes hid behind a stern face. His build was tall and lanky but anyone who flew with him knew he had nerves of steel.

"You're flying in the first wave, right?" asked Shepard.

"That's right ma'am."

"Piloting a kodiak seems below you."

"The shuttles are still relatively new. The brass doesn't want green pilots wrecking them before they get into the field," said Gully leaning back in his chair. There was a cool air about him as he stretched his arms out and put them behind his head. "I'm more interested in how those mantis gunships perform."

"I'm not willing to commit to those yet. Like Ernesto said, the marines can handle whatever they find," said Shepard looking warmly at the lieutenant. "Each mantis costs well over a million credits. I don't want any of them getting shot down on my watch. Let some other carrier test them out."

After a natural pause in the coversation Zabaleta asked, "How is your daughter Hannah?"

"Good, doing well in school. She'll be sixteen in April. I think she's going to follow in my footsteps and join the Alliance," said Shepard taking a gulp of brandy.

"How do you feel about that?" asked Gully.

"Nervous," blurted Shepard with a laugh then her face turned to stone. "She was three when her father was killed in the First Contact war... It's a dangerous galaxy, doesn't matter if you're Alliance or a civilian as those colonists are finding out."

Gully could see the dread on Hannah's face. "Better for her to learn to fight. My son joined up a few years back. He's stationed on Gagarin, not every marine goes to the front line."

"That's true," said Shepard before standing up from the table. "I hope today we don't send too many marines back home wrapped in an Alliance flag."

"I'll drink to that," said Zabaleta and they finished their glasses.

"We should be close enough to get satellite pictures of the colony," said Shepard. The warm buzz of alcohol made her skin flush. It was just enough to take the edge off. She knew by the time the mission starts it would be gone.

"As soon as you send me the mission report I'll debrief my platoon," said Zabaleta rising from the table.

"All of the shuttles are ready to go. In case you change your mind about the gunships, a group of pilots are standing by," said Gully as he straightened out his uniform.

"I'll keep that in mind, good luck down there boys," said Shepard. When they saluted her, she returned it. "Come back alive and in one piece."

"Aye, aye ma'am," they said.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that chapter and would love to hear what you think. The next chapter will be action packed to be sure. Possibly twice as long as this chapter. Nearly all main characters will make a cameo in future chapters but this is strictly an OC oriented story.


End file.
